


Running Up that Hill

by LunaDelVille



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alternian Invasion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Panic Attacks, Soulmates AU, in a world where there are no soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDelVille/pseuds/LunaDelVille
Summary: e feels the relief crashing down on him like a wave, and knows those feelings aren’t his own, knows because he feels like he could draw in them, could soak in them for the rest of his life. Those feelings were Tony’s, those feelings of utter pain and relief belonged to the one person that seemed to define everything he was. He was Steve Rogers, he was sixteen years old, and Tony was engraved within his soul and his heart.





	Running Up that Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this a soulmate AU with a small twist: There are no soulmates in that Universe, Steve and Tony are one of the kind.   
> Tony and Steve are the same age here, and this is an AU where neither of them has powers.

The first time he heard the voice, he was five years old. He remembers that day vividly, he was coloring his drawing when he heard this faint whisper at the back of his mind. It was subtle, but it was most definitely there:

“Have to find it, where is it? Where is it?” It was the voice of a child, like him, and it sounded a little bit anxious. “Dad will be home soon, I have to find it!”

It was stupid to look around, but he did it anyway. Where was this voice coming from? 

“Ha, found it!” The boy said voice rushed with enthusiasm inside of Steve’s head. He furrowed his eyebrows debating either he should say something to the voice as well, his ma always told him it wasn’t polite to leave people talking alone, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Hey,” he wasn’t sure why he spoke out loud, but shrugged it off and waited for a response. He didn’t have to wait for long, suddenly that childish and cheerful voice was loud on his head again.

“Hey, why are you in my head?” It sounded a little bit accusatory, and Steve could already picture his frown, even though he had no idea how the boy looked like.

“Why are you in my head?” He put emphasis on the words, trying to sound like a grown up.

“That’s not fair, I asked you first!”

“And I asked you second!”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been into someone else’s head before,” the other boy said, and he could picture him shrugging perfectly in his mind. “What about you?”

“I haven’t either,” was all the answer he could provide. “I’m Steve”

“I’m Anthony, but I like Tony better, that’s how my mommy calls me” and suddenly the boy's voice sounded sad, Steve found he didn’t quite like the sound of that. “I’m five, and you?”

“Me too”.

“Where are you from?” Tony questioned, sounding curious. “I mean, you must be from somewhere right, or are you a ghost, like Casper?”

“I’m not a ghost!” Steve stomped the foot on the ground, pouting. “I’m real and I’m from Blo-” he stopped mid-sentence, trying to remember how to pronounce the name right, still struggling with his “R”’s and “L”s. “Brooklyn,” he said, proud of himself. His ma would give him loads of kisses for that one!”

“Steve, I gotta go! Jarvis is making my lunch, bye” 

And he barely let Steve say goodbye before his mind turned blank again, nobody else’s thoughts, just his own. 

He tells his mom about his new friend that night, she just smiles gently like she always does and tells him she’s happy he has a new friend, and he smiles back, hoping that he could talk to Tony again, soon.

\---

The fourth of July rolls around and once again and Steve looks at the sky as the fireworks lit up the sky. He liked to pretend that they were meant for him, even though he was a big boy now. He was six, after all.

He was waiting for his ma to come back home, she has been working a lot more lately, and he doesn’t really know why she always looks so tired and worried. All he knew for sure is that she’d always bring him a small cake - without any frosting, but he didn’t care -, from the bakery right in the alley.

He cleaned up his nose, deciding not to let his ma know he was feeling sick again, she’d always worry whenever he did, and he didn’t want to go back to the hospital for the fourth time this year, thank you very much!

“Happy birthday, Steve!” Tony’s voice supplies, sounding excited. “I hope you have the best birthday ever! I wish I was there, but whenever I talk about you my daddy get’s really mad”.

After talking to Tony for over four months, he decided he didn’t like Howard, Tony’s dad. He knew it was bad not to like people - his ma always told him that he should judge them like that -, he really didn’t like the man, he was mean and already made Tony cry!

“It’s okay, Tony,” he promised, solemn. “We can pretend we’re here together”

“You promise you will never leave my head, Steve?” He could tell Tony was scared by the way his voice sounded in his head, could already imagine even when he never saw his friend. 

“I promise, Tony”

\---

When he was ten, he met James Buchanan Barnes, but he liked to call him Bucky. He was a few months older than him, with deep grey eyes and the energy of six years old on a sugar rush.

They both got along pretty well, and four months after, Steve was proud to call Bucky his best friend. When he told him about Tony, Bucky simply smiled and shoved him so that they could play, and Steve had let it slide.

Sometimes, when he mentioned Tony to his mother she’d get this pinched expression - like concern mixed with something else -, and he didn’t like to be the cause of that. He knew no one else heard the voices, that he was the only one who seemed to able to hear Tony, to feel him so close to him, but at the same time, knew he could never let go of him for. Tony was something he couldn’t express, that his mind was too young to comprehend, but he mattered to Steve, and he never gave up on people he cared about.

One day he heard sobs inside his mind, heartwrenching, deep sobs, and found himself shaking with the force of them. Tony never cried, he didn’t cry when Justin Hammer pushed him on the slide, didn’t cry when his father grounded him for going down his workshop, but now he was downright sobbing inside of Steve’s mind.

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

“Why he doesn’t love me, Steve?” And he didn’t have to ask to know who the other was talking about. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong” 

And they were both far too young, and far too fragile to understand the realm of the people around them, both couldn’t even ride go out on their own, but Steve knew that no parent should treat their child like Howard treated Tony. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Tony!” the other boy laughed, something broken and he hated it, hated that sound with everything he had. “I mean it, Tony” he swore. “ And if he doesn’t see how awesome you are, I do!” it was solemn, full of wonder and promised, it was theirs. 

\---

When Steve turned twelve, he stopped talking about Tony, because whenever he did, people would look at him funny and he hated it, hated all of it, but most of all loathed that he had to hide the most important person in his life from everybody else.

Things were rougher in his house, his mother wasn’t around that much, working double shifts every day, and he knew it was because they had no money left. Most days, she would pretend she say she wasn’t hungry and give him soup, and he was finally now realizing she had been lying all along. 

One day he saw her crying in her bedroom and felt his stomach tie up in a knot, hot and heavy under his skin. It was terrible watching your parent struggle and not being able to help. That day, he sat by her side and kissed her cheek, and she smiled, and for the first time in a really long time, he didn’t feel quite as heavy.

Whenever he got sick - which was often -, he would try his best to hide it from Bucky and his ma, he didn’t want them to worry, didn’t want her to expend all her money on him.

Every night, he would sit at his worn out bed and tell Tony about his day, they would talk in their own minds for hours - there was no need for spoken words -, and Steve would feel like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. 

They lingered on, voices as echoes at the back of their minds.

\---

Tony tells him about his first kiss on a warm Saturday evening. Her name was Anna Morris and according to Tony, she was beautiful. They were both fifteen, and Steve felt something twist inside of him with the rushed words Tony had spoken. He hated the feeling, hated that pang that seemed to consume his entire being.

He looks himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders were showing, and so were the bones of his ribcages. He was small, puberty wasn’t doing him any favors other than the sudden changes on his voice and the oil on his skin. He didn’t know what he was expecting, anyway.

They still talk, Tony tells him about this project he’s working on - and Steve finds himself fascinated with the geniality of his friend -, but says he still has to come up with the name.

Steve turns sixteen and ends up in the hospital due to an anaphylactic shock. He still remembers the feeling of his throat closing up on him, of the hot tears as the fear took over. He still recalls Tony’s voice on his mind - beseeching, desperate -, as he was dragged to the hospital.

Don’t die. Please, please, please don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. I can’t lose you. Please, I can’t lose you! Those are the only words he hears as he is taken to the ICU.

He feels the relief crashing down on him like a wave, and knows those feelings aren’t his own, knows because he feels like he could draw in them, could soak in them for the rest of his life. Those feelings were Tony’s, those feelings of utter pain and relief belonged to the one person that seemed to define everything he was. He was Steve Rogers, he was sixteen years old, and Tony was engraved within his soul and his heart.

After that days, he sends Tony a picture of his books and himself - just his face, because Tony asked and he couldn’t say no -. He wants Tony to know that he’s real, that he exists, that they aren’t going crazy.

“I don’t tell people about you anymore” Tony’s voice was just a whisper inside his head. “My dad gets angry whenever”. He says as Steve stares at the ceiling, imagining Tony there with him. 

“I don’t tell them about you either” he whispers, quietly. “They don’t understand”. Because no sixteen years old was supposed to be hearing voices, and Steve knew that, but he also knew - without a shadow of a doubt that Tony was real -, that he was alive, breathing and existing. 

“I want you to know who I am” Tony whispered, something soft and private. Steve closed his eyes and smiled.

“I already do”

\---

Steve was aware of himself, of his own flaws and problems, which is why it doesn’t hurt quite as much when Gina says she can’t go out with him. No one ever says yes, he was used to it by now.

He tells Tony about as soon as he gets home, and his friend sounds rightfully pissed. Steve knew that no one would ever pick him - he was weak and sickly -, and knew that people like Gina Montreani would never want him.

Some days, he’ll go out with Bucky to the movies and his best friend would pay, later they would walk through the city and talk for hours, and Tony would pitch in every once in a while.

Tony said he had sex with a girl called Jessie, from his chemistry class, told him it was fun and cool. Steve chose not to think about the way his heart ached at the confession.

Steve’s ma got sick shortly after, and some anonymous donor transferred a lot of money to the hospital’s bank account under his ma’s name. He had the nagging feeling that Tony had something to do with that, but couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Her battle against her cancer didn’t last long, the doctors told him it was in metastasis, that it was in the brain, the liver, they told him that she didn’t have too much time. 

The days that followed were the worst of Steve’s life. He was seventeen and he was about to lose the only family he had left, his own mother. Most days, he’d sit by her side and kiss her temple, hoping that she’d get better. 

Sarah Rogers died at eleven p.m of 14th of September and Steve could barely afford a proper funeral to her. Tony was uncharacteristically quiet through the whole thing, but he could feel him there, almost as if he was holding Steve’s hand as he watched the casket disappearing under the ground. Tony wasn’t there, but Steve could feel him, and that was more than enough.

\---

Some days, Steve would lie at the ground and pretend the world he was living was a different one. He’d pretend that his ma was alive, that she was healthy and strong, would pretend that his dad didn’t die before he was born, would pretend that he had food to eat, and above everything else, he’d pretend that Tony was there with him.

He wasn’t sure if he’d survived without Tony but knew for sure he had no intention of finding out. Sometimes, he considered going to California, trying to find him, but Tony never said anything and he didn’t want to impose, besides, how could he afford the plane tickets?

They’d spend entires nights talking, Tony would tell him about his inventions and he’d tell him about the paintings he was making. He would barely notice the time passing by, the hours turning into days, and then turning into months. 

Tony’s presence was growing stronger, was in everything around him, almost like a ghostly silhouette, the images of a life he has yet to live, and more than once, he found himself missing what he never had. 

Steve finds out he’s in love with Tony when he turns out nineteen, and with that, comes to the realization that he’s doomed. 

\---

Everything changes when they both turn 21.

One day, he finds his senses shifting, altering. He feels the same quiet despair he’s felt once he heard his mother was sick and lets the glass he was washing fall to the floor.

“They’re dead. They’re dead. Dead. Dead. How can they be dead?” The words make no sense, but they wash over him, making him stumble. 

“Tony, Tony what’s wrong?” His voice sounds louder than it's supposed to.

“My parents, they are dead”. And he can feel Tony cracking under, can feel because he is too because it’s painful and it makes him want to recoil on the floor. Was this how Tony felt, before? When his mother died? “They... Oh my God, I can’t” and Steve can’t breathe, his mind is fuzzy, confused, he feels heavy, going under as Tony goes faster.

And for the first time, Steve doesn’t know what to say.

\---

Tony doesn’t speak with him for days, and Steve doesn’t push. He feels heavy, can’t sleep, can’t quite function because it still feels like salt over an open wound, too fresh for him to think of anything else.

He waits, waits as the days turn into weeks, waits when the new season comes, and waits, and waits, but Tony won’t still say anything.

“Tony,” he whispers the name but feels like it comes out hollow. “Please, talk to me” there’s no answer. He takes one step back. “Tony, I know you’re hurting, but please, please talk to me”. 

The air got knocked out of him as he realized he couldn’t feel Tony, couldn’t feel anything other than the pain that seemed to have taken over his body. The bond, their connection was just... Gone.

He stumbles, trying to catch himself. No. No. No. Please, God, no. This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t lose this too. Please, please. 

“Tony,’ his voice was hoarse, and he was fighting back the tears that were threatening to leave his eyes. “Please, please answer me”

Unlike all the other times, there was no hint of a whisper on the back of his mind, no response at all. Steve felt himself on the brink of a panic attack, feeling as his legs gave out under him.

He kept calling out for Tony, his voice as a lonely echo on his mind, and he felt himself crack further and further with every breath he took. 

The voices were quiet souvenirs, the faint ghosts of long gone memories, dancing silhouettes that faded under the sunlight.

\---

Living without Tony was the most agonizing part of it all. His presence - ever constant - isn’t there anymore. Some days, Steve struggles to get out of bed and move on with his life. Bucky notices, but never says anything, for which Steve will always be grateful.

He couldn't understand what he did wrong, couldn’t understand why the bond was severed that way. And the worst thing is that he no one to talk to about it, no one that could understand what was going through. 

He kept on going, kept on trying, but the hollowness inside his chest was only growing bigger, and he found himself wishing, for the first time ever, that he never heard that little kid’s voice inside his head.

\---

Three years pass by, in those years Steve meets Peggy Carter and tries to make things work with her, but nothing comes close to compare to what he had with Tony, to what he felt, so he does the only thing he can, he breaks up with her five months after they start dating.

He couldn’t understand how someone could have so much power over his life, could make him question everything he thought he knew about himself, about the world. 

The pain was constant, and he was learning to live with it, but honestly, that pain wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. Some days, he could barely stand the memory of the absence, of what he couldn’t hear or feel anymore. And in those days, he’d always wonder if Tony felt the same.

Now, Steve was waiting on the line to get his tea and head to work. That was this red-haired woman with the nametag “Natasha” written on it and she smiled at him gently, and he smiled back. 

“Give me a green tea, please”.

After she handed him his drink, he sat by one of the tables and watched people outside going through their lives, wondering if anyone of them could hear voices in their minds.

That was when he saw him and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. The man was absolutely breathtaking, with wild brown hair and warm brown eyes. He was wearing some Armani suit and looking at Steve with some emotion he couldn’t quite place. The sense of familiarity that overtook him was impossible to explain in words, to express.

But when he heard the man’s voice, everything seemed to have stopped. 

“Hey, Nat, can you give me a tall black coffee, please?”

“Sure thing Tony, coming right up”

Tony. Tony. Tony. It was Tony. His Tony.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, any time. Would recognize even underwater, even after all those years. Before he could think, he got up and approached him.

“Tony?” The man turned to him, his eyes snapping open as he saw him.

“Steve?”

And before he knew it, before he could even explain to himself, his brain was overflown by something he hasn’t heard in a really long time.

“It’s you”.


End file.
